Reese

I have the worst headache and I can't wait to get out of this office. After my afternoon surprise I had every intention of leaving work early, but another of my clients got into what turned out to be a bidding war that took the better part of two hours to resolve. 

Just as I send my final email of the evening Layla runs into my office, practically slams the door, and plops down in front of my desk. 

"Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh! I've been dying to talk to you all day. What's he like?" 

I blink slowly, frowning at her. "Who?"

Her eyes get so huge and under normal circumstances my curiosity would be piqued. Today, however, has been far from normal and I'm out of energy. 

"JC!" She says this as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. 

"JC?" I repeat. "You know JC?" My stomach drops and I wonder if she's going to tell me she's slept with him too.

Layla huffs and tosses her blonde ponytail behind her. "Come on, Reese, of course I don't know him! That's why I want to know what he's like. He's even hotter in person, isn't he?"

My confusion grows as she keeps talking. "So is he moving to Chicago? What's his girlfriend like? Ugh, I hate her! I mean she's gorgeous and he's gorgeous and they're absolutely perfect together and it's not fair, right?"

She's waving her hands around while she tosses out words and all I can do is stare at her with my mouth slightly open. 

"Talk to me!" she insists. "What's he like? I need to know everything!"

I gesture vaguely. "I don't know, Layla. He's like...a regular guy, I guess." And I mean that so much more than she could ever know. 

On any given day Layla is five feet six inches of twenty-five year old perky blonde perpetual excitement. She has one speed and it's extreme enthusiasm about literally everything. She's kind of like a new puppy. 

She's also really sweet and I genuinely like her. Right now, however, I can't handle her. Though I wouldn't have believed it possible, she's even more hyped up than normal. She's practically hyperventilating and asking me a million rapid fire questions and my headache is getting worse. 

"Layla. Please take a breath. How do you even know who he is?"

She stares at me with an expression that's part horror and part disbelief. "You're kidding, right?"

I close my eyes and rub my temples. "No, I'm not kidding." Then I remember that he told me he's a musician. Of course we were half naked at the time, and I was too distracted to ask more questions. I clear my throat.

"Reese." I open my eyes to see Layla's incredulous blue eyes staring back at me like maybe I'm an imbecile. 

I get the feeling that I'm missing something major.  

"You really don't know who JC Chasez is?"

I shrug. "Should I?"

Her jaw drops, and she definitely thinks I'm an imbecile. "In sync, Reese!" 

"In sync with what?" I say, which is clearly the wrong answer because she grabs the edge of my desk and starts shrieking. 

"Reese! JC Chasez! He and Justin Timberlake were in *NSYNC together!"

Justin Timberlake is everywhere--movies, music, so of course I know who he is. And I guess I knew he was part of a boyband a million years ago, but it wasn't the kind of music I was into at the time. 

Layla's rattling off information about JC and the group, and my mind wanders back to when he told me that his songs were sometimes on the radio. My brain is spinning, and Layla's still talking, and I just really need to get the hell out of here. 

"Layla," I interrupt, "I'm really sorry but I have to get going. If he comes back I'll make sure to introduce you, OK?" 

There's like zero percent chance of that happening, but she doesn't need to know that. 

She squeals again, clapping her hands together. "You're the best, Reese! I'll talk to you tomorrow!"

She leaves and I sit for a moment, inhaling and exhaling, elbows on the desk, forehead resting in my hands.  

I take a random guy home--the first time I've ever in my life done it--and he turns up in my office the next day. With his girlfriend. And he's some kind of celebrity. 

I start laughing because it's all I can do. And the longer I laugh, the harder I laugh, until I can't breathe, my stomach hurts, and tears are streaming down my cheeks.

Several minutes pass before I calm down and catch my breath, and I gather my stuff to leave. 

I have a date with Google tonight.

JC

"Did you see the way Reese looked at you when you came in?" Tia says, and I think my heart stops beating for at least ten seconds. 

And also I'm maybe gonna be sick.

"Wh-what do you mean?" 

"She totally recognized you."

She laughs and I glance at her from the corner of my eye. My heart begins to regulate to a normal rhythm as I realize what she's talking about. 

"Oh. Um...maybe," I say nonchalantly. 

"No maybe. She played it off well--better than most--but she totally recognized you."

She's right, for the wrong reason. 

Tia's going through the folder Reese gave her, making comments that I think I'm supposed to be responding to, but I can't even pretend to process what she's saying right now.  

I know there are people out there who think I'm some kind of a Casanova or something. That I like, just sleep around with a lot of women kind of indiscriminately. It's not true. It's actually never been true. I'm not, and never have been, that guy. I don't run through women. For one, I like women. I respect women. And I've had far fewer casual hook-ups and meaningless one night stands than people would probably believe.

I think the best sex is the kind that happens when I have a real connection with someone. Sure, physical attraction is one part of it, but it's not the only part. It's about a conversation with someone and realizing you're on the same wavelength. It's about sharing a joke that no one else thinks is funny. It's about some undefinable something that doesn't happen with just anyone. I like sex. I love sex. But for me, sex is best when it feels meaningful, and it doesn't often feel that way with a stranger. 

Maybe it's a spiritual thing. Or a vibrational thing. I don't know, but whatever it is it was there with Reese from the moment our eyes locked in that club. And the fact that, out of all the companies we could've walked into today, we walked into hers...well, that has to mean something. 

"So maybe Wednesday?" Tia says.

"Wednesday for what?" 

"To look at places with Reese," she mumbles. 

I can't see Reese again. Obviously. But I also can't say that. 

"Maybe you should request a different agent." The words are out of my mouth before I think them through, and I can feel Tia's eyes on me.

"Why?" she says. "Because she recognized you? People recognize you all the time, JC." 

I think I can hear exasperation in her voice, but when I glance at her she's smiling. And at least that means she isn't suspicious.

"Um, yeah, I guess. But maybe--"

Before I can finish whatever bullshit I was about to make up, Tia's phone rings and she takes the call.

We're headed to her folks' place, and as stressful as that is on a good day, I don't know how the hell I'm going to get through it today. While Tia is occupied with her phone call, I spend every bit of the rest of the drive wondering, in the not-so-way-back of my mind, how I can fix this.